


Thirteenth Harvestmere

by LinnyBear



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, One Shot, birthday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-18
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-08-31 18:59:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8589976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinnyBear/pseuds/LinnyBear
Summary: Varric never mentions his birthday, but that doesn't mean Cassandra won't try and make it special. Somehow.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smallandcheeky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallandcheeky/gifts).



> Written as a (very late) birthday present for smallandcheeky (vrashsun on tumblr). She wanted Cassarric, and I hope this satisfies <3

That Cassandra was able to figure out when his birthday was at all was the first miracle. It shouldn’t have surprised her at all that he didn’t call much attention to it - Who doesn’t, really? Even she loved to indulge a little on her birthday. “Indulge” for her, of course, meant a few hours to herself to read, maybe enjoy some frilly Orlesian sweets or good wine. 

Varric had - damn him, wonderful man that he was - made her most recent birthday particularly special. Flowers, breakfast in bed, a novella he’d written  _ just for her,  _  just for the occasion, and of course it was wonderful, and he read parts to her when she asked. He’d finished it all off with a candlelit dinner, followed by  _ quite  _ the amazing attention after. 

She had felt so loved. So special. It had been everything she could have hoped for. How could she match that?

She knew he wouldn’t ask her to. In fact, she knew he wasn’t aware she even knew when his birthday was. Otherwise, he would have said it was just a few short weeks away. Surely he would have mentioned it, even in casual conversation. Wouldn’t he?

She wondered if he would mind that she knew. She wondered if he expected her to. She wondered, more than anything else, what she could  _ do  _ for him. 

What gift would be worthy of Varric Tethras? Did it even exists? 

It hits her practically in the middle of the night, a conversation they had once months ago. His curiosity for stories of all kinds a thing she couldn’t sate at the time. Now, she knew how.

The next day, she asks the Inquisitor for a couple days’ leave to Val Royeaux. 

“I need to see a man about a book,” She explains. “I can’t tell you exactly why, just yet, it’s for a, uh… Gift. It’s important.”

The grin that Cadash gives her is dangerous. “Take all the time you need, Pentaghast. I’ll keep him occupied while you’re gone.” 

She doesn’t ask how on earth Cadash knew. She’s afraid to.

Varric doesn’t ask what exactly she’s doing, and for once she’s glad he has his own secrets and can respect hers. 

“I’ll be back before you can miss me,” She promises, with a kiss.

“Liar,” he teases. “I already do.”

And the way he kisses her then is almost enough to make her stay. But this is important. This is for him.

 

The trip to Val Royeaux is, to Cassandra’s relief, successful. She finds exactly what she needs - a proper translator, and a promise to have the end product to her just in time. It costs less than she’d expect, as the translator is almost too excited for the chance to take on her project at all. 

She gets a pair of nice leather gloves for him while she’s there, too - a good decoy, she decides, if she can manage to lie. And the next morning, she’s on her way back to Skyhold. 

 

She’s purposely coy when she returns. He might have endured her secrets before, but the fact that she still won't’ tell him later is driving him  _ mad,  _ and she sort of enjoys it.

“Come on, Seeker, I know you can’t lie for long.” He isn’t quite pouting, but it’s close enough to be adorable.

“I do not have to. I just have to not say anything.” She grins, and he huffs.

And then he  _ smirks. _

“Oh, I have ways of making you talk, Seeker.” He takes her hand, leading her upstairs to his room.

He isn’t successful. But she does thoroughly enjoy the effort. 

 

The morning of his birthday (which he still hasn’t mentioned), she gets up early, as per her usual. However, she prepares rather than training, strong coffee and sweet honeyed cakes on a tray she brings to his room. 

“Hm?” He blinks blearily as the tray is set on the bedside table. “Special occasion?”

“You’re birthday, dwarf.” But she smiles, wider, seeing the shock on his face.

“Wait - what? What day is - “

“Thirteenth of Harvestmere.”

“Oh. So it is. And how did you - “

“Leliana.” 

He only nods at that, and sits up in bed. “Yeah, I figured.” 

“I have told no one else,” She assures him. “And I won’t ask. Not today, anyway. Today, I have breakfast. And I have a gift.” 

She lays the box in his lap. He gives her a rather unreadable look before untying the twine.

It takes all the willpower she has to give him time to admire the gloves first. They really are good - solid, sturdy leather, warm enough, but not too thick for a pen, or the switch of a crossbow. He traces the material, the stitching, and smiles so warmly and genuinely she melts a little.

“Seeker, you didn’t have to do this.” She leans over and kisses his forehead.

“Of course I did.” She murmurs. “Now open the rest of it.”

Eyebrow raised, he lifts the handkerchief she’d used to cover his actual gift. 

The first thing he sees is familiar - a book of Navarran fairy tales she’d enjoyed in her childhood. She’d tried, unsuccessfully, to explain the stories to him, but it was difficult to find the words. She was never good with stories. 

But underneath that book, is the manuscripted Trade translation she’d commissioned. 

“You wanted Navarran stories. Good ones, ones a child might actually enjoy. Or, anyone. I couldn’t give them to you myself, so, I found someone who could.” 

He traces over the pages, skimming the words, slight smile tugging at his lips, and her heart swells.

“Seeker I… You didn’t… “ He chuckles. “Shit, Cassandra Pentaghast you are the only person who can leave me literally speechless.” 

“You make it so easy.” She leans forward and kisses him, a kiss he deepens as he cups the back of her neck. “Happy Birthday, my love.” 

He sets the gift on the side table next to their breakfast and pulls her down onto the bed with him. The coffee goes cold, but it’s worth it.


End file.
